


All I want for Christmas is to Bake Cookies with You

by TuppingLiberty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baking, Christmas, Domestic Bliss, First Kiss, Future Fic, M/M, Now with an Explicit epilogue of sorts, Scott is both a good friend and a bad friend because people are complicated, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles didn't go to the FBI, Stilinski Family Feels, Traditions, only slightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: Stiles is upset when Scott can't uphold their Christmas tradition of baking cookies. Good thing Derek's to the rescue!  Christmas fluff.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 33
Kudos: 623





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from The Coats' song "Cookies." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbH2kdywRag

“Yeah, no, Scott, of course I understand.” Stiles clamps down on his tongue to avoid saying something less understanding. He rolls away from his bedroom desk and looks up at the ceiling, watching the winter morning light play along the surface. “Maybe it’s just not in the cards this year.” 

Scott says something appropriately guilty, and Stiles tries not to sigh. He knows Scott is trying, he  _ knows. _ It’s just- sometimes it hurts, you know? Coming in second to Kira  _ all the time. _   


“You’ll do great. Her parents love you.” 

It’s easy to fall into the reassuring tone even as his stomach roils. Would taking a year off be so bad? Or would it just be a slippery slope, missing another year and another until he hasn’t done it in so long he doesn’t even remember how? Maybe Stiles is right in his reassurance to Scott; they're in college now, so maybe it's time to let the tradition go.  


Scott doesn’t seem to notice his reverie, and says goodbye, leaving Stiles with his cell phone pressed against his face for no reason. He blinks, setting it down on the desk and rubbing a hand over his face. There definitely isn’t wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes. 

He’s tired all of a sudden, and he rests his head on his arms on the desk, trying to blink the tears from his eyes and will himself to just move on already. 

Which is, of course, when Derek decides to make an appearance at his window. Stiles jolts, wiping at his eyes at the scrape of the window opening. Should have thought to put some ash down if he wanted privacy, he supposes. But maybe Derek is bringing something to distract him. “What’s-” Stiles coughs, clearing his throat. “What’s up? Do we have a new Big Bad?” 

Derek frowns, leaning against the window frame with his stupid sexy arms wrapped around his stupid sexy chest. “What’s wrong?” 

He sniffs delicately, as if he can smell Stiles’ tears. Then again, he probably can, the bastard. 

“Nothing, we are all good, amigo. What do you need?” Stiles turns, pulling over his laptop and looking up at Derek expectantly. “New monster? Oh god, don’t tell me its witches again. I hate witches.” 

“It’s not witches, and you’re deflecting. Your heart’s all over the place.” 

“You know, it’s really creepy when you point stuff like that out. Just saying.” 

“It’s really aggravating when someone doesn’t tell someone else why they’re upset. Just saying.” 

“Maybe  _ someone  _ doesn’t think they owe  _ someone _ an explanation.” 

Derek frowns. “You don’t owe me anything, I just hate to see you sad.” 

“I’m not-” But Stiles stops the feeble protest, knowing Derek will see right through it. 

“It’s McCall, isn’t it?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Just because you hate Scott doesn’t mean everything bad in my life is because of him.” 

Derek just arches one of his stupidly sexy bushy brows. 

“Okay, okay, fine, yes, I mean, this is because of Scott, but my point stands.” 

“What’d he do this time?” Derek crosses over to Stiles’ bed and sits down, his hands dropping to the mattress as he leans back. 

“He’s just- he had to cancel some plans because he’s eating lunch with Kira’s family. He can’t cancel, and so he can’t come- I mean. It’s fine. Things come up. People have obligations. Traditions can change. I can change, and it’ll be okay.” 

Derek’s mouth quirks up. “That sounds like something a therapist told you.” 

“I think it was Sesame Street, actually,” he says, just to make Derek laugh, and Derek obliges him with one of his deep chuckles. 

There’s a moment of silence then, and it’s mostly not awkward. “Seriously, what did you need?” Stiles asks eventually. 

“It’s not an emergency. What were you going to do with Scott? Play that one shooting game you like? Go see a movie? Sit next to each other on the couch texting but not actually talking?” 

Stiles snorts. “None of the above, ludditewolf. Why do you want to know?” 

“I could take Scott’s place,” Derek offers with a shrug. 

“You- what? You would?” 

“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t mean it.” 

“But-” Stiles opens and closes his mouth. “But you hate spending time with me. And you wouldn’t want to do this anyway.” 

“I don’t  _ hate _ spending time with you.”

Stiles raises his own eyebrows. 

Derek smirks.

“And besides, anything Scott can do, I can do.” He puffs out his chest a little, though Stiles thinks he’s doing it unconsciously. 

Stiles snorts, humming a few bars of  _ Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better. _

“Yes, I can,” Derek adds, full-on grinning now. 

Stiles’ heart flip-flops in his chest. Stupid sexy Derek and his stupid sexy vulnerabilities. “I really don’t think you want to do this, though.” 

Derek rolls his eyes, sighing with exasperation. “Just try me.” 

Stiles watches Derek for two long seconds, deciding to take the wolf at his word. “Okay, well, then. Follow me.” 

He pushes to his feet, turning to wait for Derek and startling when he finds Derek behind him already. Derek grabs his arm to steady him, then grins. “Lead the way.” 

Against his reservations, Stiles does, leading Derek down to the kitchen, where he’d already laid out the supplies for himself and Scott. Derek takes in the bags of flour and sugar, the various colored bottles of sprinkles, and Stiles blushes. 

“It’s, uh- our tradition, I guess. Every year we work all day one of the Saturdays making Christmas cookies. I give some to the neighbors, and take most of them down to the station as a present from the Stilinskis to Dad’s deputies. So yeah. Probably don’t want to do it, right? I’ll let you off the hook, though, it’s okay.” 

Derek frowns as he looks at the supplies gathered on the counter. “I haven’t baked in a long time,” he murmurs, before looking back over at Stiles. “But maybe now’s a good time to hop back in.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

Derek starts opening the flour sack. “You have the recipe handy? Or do you have it memorized? I bet you have it memorized.” At Stiles’ continued silence, he turns around and smiles. “How much flour, Stiles?” 

Derek’s voice is more gentle than he’s ever heard it, and some soft feeling curls its way through Stiles’ chest. It’s really not fair, Derek directing all that …  _ Derek- _ ness at him. “Three cups,” he murmurs, because he  _ does _ have his mom’s recipe memorized. The card that holds it is in an archival-quality sleeve in the family safe. It’s one of the precious few examples of his mom’s handwriting that he has left. 

“I’ll start creaming the butter and sugar.” 

They fall into the quiet work, until Stiles, with a sideways glance at Derek, pulls out his phone and pulls up his Christmas playlist. Anne Murray starts playing softly, echoing in the space of the small kitchen, his mom's favorite album. Derek doesn’t even react, just continuing to sift flour and baking powder and salt together. If someone had told him that Derek Hale would be happily making cookies in his kitchen, swaying a little to  _ Silver Bells,  _ he would have committed them. 

_ What even is happening right now? _

Honestly, when Derek shrugs off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his Henley to mix the wet and dry ingredients together, forming the dough into a ball, Stiles can't believe he doesn't faint right there. He's not sure Derek's ever been more insanely attractive than right now, dusty with flour and grinning with satisfaction at Stiles. Stiles takes the dough from him and wraps it in plastic to chill. As he turns away from the fridge, he finds Derek leaning against the counter - delicious - and pinning him with his gaze. 

“We, uh, have to wait for that to chill. What?” Stiles blushes at Derek’s continued stare. 

“I just didn’t picture you and McCall making cookies together enough to make it a tradition,” Derek says with a shrug. 

Stiles crosses over to the stove and pulls out a pan to make hot chocolate - another piece of the tradition. “It’s- I mean. It’s...uh.” Stiles grips the counter. “Scott only started coming over to help me after...my mom.” 

There’s a silence filled only by  _ I Saw Three Ships _ in Anne Murray’s smooth alto tone. “My dad and I used to make snickerdoodles every Christmas.” 

Stiles looks up to meet Derek’s eyes in surprise. “Really?” 

A look of mirth crosses Derek's face. “Yes, really. Even wolves like cookies, Stiles.” 

“I just meant-” Stiles manages a laugh when Derek smiles at him. “Yeah, my mom and I would spend a whole Saturday in December making cookies, icing them, boxing them up and handing them out. And then that first year after… Dad wasn’t exactly in the best shape back then, with the drinking, and Scott came over and we kind of fumbled through it together, and it was… a little bit like having a piece of Mom back.” 

Derek nods his understanding, taking a towel and beginning to clean up the counters. “So, another example of McCall being a dick, cancelling on you.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You just like thinking the worst of him.” 

Derek’s arm nudges his hip as he cleans the counter by Stiles. “I could say you’re just thinking the best of him.” 

“Dude, he’s not perfect, but neither am I, right? Or you. He loves Kira, but he loves me too. I know she comes first, but that doesn’t mean I’m chopped liver, or something.” 

“You deserve to be first,” Derek murmurs, and Stiles suddenly realizes how close he’s gotten. Derek’s hand comes up to his cheek, and he cups it, their eyes meeting. His thumb rubs over Stiles’ skin, making him shiver. “You, uh- you had some flour there.” 

He moves to take his hand away, but Stiles grabs at his wrist gently, holding him in place. “What am I reading, here? Just bros being bros…?”

Derek’s lips tip up. “Not exactly,” he whispers, moving closer to Stiles’ body. He looks down to where Stiles’ hand is still holding his wrist, and gently turns it until his lips brush over Stiles’ knuckles. 

Stiles can’t keep his heart from fluttering, and knows Derek heard it when his smile grows more predatory. Stiles lets himself be pulled in, slotting into Derek’s arms like it’s meant to be. Like he’s meant to fit there, just like he’s always known, whenever Derek pulled him away from danger or comforted him after a fight. 

“Der-”

It’s all he gets out before Derek’s mouth covers his, the kiss as sweet as the sugar dusting Stiles’ fingers as they grip the counter behind him. Derek’s body is pressed up against his, strong and solid and warm, and Stiles almost feels faint as all of the blood in his brain rushes toward his cock. 

He hums into the kiss, parting his lips and letting Derek inside. The wolf’s hand slips to the small of Stiles’ back, pressing him closer, impossibly close.

When they break for air a few seconds later, Stiles feels hot, flushed, panting against Derek’s kiss-swollen lips. “Wow,” he mumbles, because he sucks at knowing the right thing to say. 

Derek’s smile is slow and impossibly gorgeous. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, Stiles.” 

“I- what? Really?” 

Derek braces his hands on the counter just to the sides of Stiles’ hips. “Really.” 

Stiles licks his lips involuntarily. “You- I mean. I find that really hard to believe.” 

“I’m going to have to ask you to believe it anyway.” 

Stiles laughs a little manically. “I...will work on that.” 

Derek looks at the fridge, then back at Stiles. “You said two hours? How do you want to kill time?” 

“We could, uh, repeat that little experiment until I’m convinced you want me.” Stiles pulls the milk he'd been warming off of the burner. 

Derek laughs, nuzzling his beard-rough cheek against Stiles’. “Maybe we could work in some time to talk about this, too.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Stiles promises, grinning, heart bubbling over. 


	2. More Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumped the rating up to E though there's nothing too explicit in the second chapter. For some reason, the boys wanted to be sweet and not smutty. :D

**1st Anniversary**

“Hey! That’s not for you, old man.” Stiles hip checks his father away from the buttercream. 

“Aww, c’mon, son.” John grins in a way that he  _ thinks _ is innocent, as if Stiles hasn’t been monitoring his father’s food and health for the last decade and knows his every trick. “It’s Christmas.” 

“It’s December 10th.” 

Father and son turn at Derek’s dry assessment. He’s leaning up against the counter, his arms folded over his chest, surveying the chaos of the Stilinski kitchen. He himself is clean, having just returned from morning perimeter patrol as a wolf. He’d stopped at his house for a quick shower. “McCall cancel?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue, and if John weren’t between them, Derek would happily show Stiles exactly why he shouldn’t stick his tongue out and tease his boyfriend that way. “He and Kira went to get more powdered sugar. I have enough to start this batch, but it’s not nearly the amount we need for the rest of the cookies. Especially if Dad  _ keeps eating it.  _ I see you, Stilinski.” 

John raises his hands, but his cause isn’t helped - there’s still a smidge of buttercream on his finger. “I have to get out of here anyway,” he mutters, shrugging his uniform shirt on over his undershirt and starting to button it. “Should I tell my deputies you’ll be bringing the cookies by tomorrow?” 

Stiles calls out an affirmative as John heads out the door. A moment later, Derek hears the car start, and Stiles turns back to his icing, his tongue sticking out between his lips as he doles it out to different bowls for coloring. He looks so damn adorable, and Derek can’t help but scoot up behind him, his lips ghosting behind Stiles’ ear so he shivers. 

“Hey, you.” Stiles rubs his smooth cheek against Derek’s stubble, humming. 

Derek’s arms slip around Stiles’ waist. “Hey.” 

“How was patrol?” He breaks away, pushing a bowl of white icing with a few drops of blue food coloring waiting at the top. “Stir that.” 

“Yes, chef.” Derek laughs when Stiles hip checks him, too. “I didn’t see or smell anything.” 

“Good. Maybe we’ll have a quiet Christmas for once.” 

“Now, why’d you have to go and say that, Stiles? You’ve jinxed it!” Scott’s voice is bright from the doorway, and Derek takes a second to readjust his face into less of a scowl. He  _ supposes _ Stiles’ best friend is okay. 

Kira bounces in with a grocery bag, and Stiles immediately starts directing everyone in that way he has - he’d make a good Alpha, Derek has always thought, though Derek would do anything - including dying first - to make sure Stiles never has to take the Bite, not when he doesn’t want to.

From there, the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of sugar and food coloring. 

“I made you an anniversary present.” Stiles’ voice is quiet behind him, and Derek turns away from the last sinkful of dishes to look at him. 

“Our anniversary is tomorrow. Was I supposed to bring the gift today?” He has a hard time keeping the panic from his voice, and Stiles laughs, shushing him. 

“No, I just- it’s kind of the anniversary of the event, you know? A year ago, you helped me make cookies. Just like you did today.” Stiles looks beautiful in the half-light of the kitchen - they’d turned off most of the lights awhile ago and now just the Christmas lights made shadows over Stiles’ face. 

He’s so lovely, Derek thinks. More handsome every day. Forgetting that his hands are soapy, he reaches out, cupping Stiles’ cheek and drawing him in for a kiss. He cuts off Stiles’ startled laugh - probably at the wetness on his cheek now - and deepens the kiss, sliding his fingers through the hair on the back of Stiles’ head. Stiles moans against his lips, then sighs when Derek finally releases him. He stares up at Derek’s eyes through his lashes, gaze fuzzy, cheeks red. 

“What was I saying?” Stiles asks breathlessly. 

“Who cares?” 

Stiles snorts, shoving at Derek’s chest playfully. “I made you a present, and I want to give it to you tonight, but that means you have to be done with those dishes, so let me help.” 

Smiling, Derek angles to the side to let Stiles in, and they finish up quickly together, bantering and bickering in a fond way that makes Derek’s chest ache - and cock harden.

“So, present,” Stiles prompts as Derek puts away the last dish that didn’t fit in the washer. 

“I hope it’s jewelry,” Derek snarks, just to see if- and yes, there’s Stiles’ tongue once more. Before he can sweep Stiles up into a kiss, though, Stiles shoves a cookie tin in his hands. “Cookies?” 

“Just look inside, sourwolf, come on.” 

Derek pops open the tin, to reveal a long, large cookie, shape unmistakably a penis. Derek chokes on something - the air maybe? - and coughs. “Stiles-”

Stiles grins, raises his eyebrows suggestively. “What do you think?” 

“I think you are the weirdest man I’ve ever known, and that’s saying something.” 

“Well  _ I _ think you’re not appreciating the pun here.” 

“Pun?” 

“Joke. Whatever. It’s my dick in a box.” 

Derek stares at him. Oh, yes, he knows the reference, but that doesn’t mean Stiles deserves any less than Derek Hale’s patented Unimpressed Stare. “Your dick in a cookie tin, you mean.” 

“Right!” 

And then Derek can’t keep it up, because Stiles looks so damned  _ proud _ of himself. He shakes his head, then lets out a snort, then laughs, watching Stiles’ face brighten as he enjoys himself. “You are...so romantic.” 

“Mmm, I know I am.” Stiles slips his arms around Derek’s waist, running his hands down to squeeze Derek’s ass. “So what do you say? Want my dick?” 

Laughing, Derek pulls the cookie out of the tin and brings it to his lips. “I don’t think you thought through the implications of this. I’m about to take a bite out of your dick.”

“I know teeth are normally a no-no, but c’mon. Just try a little.” Stiles takes the cookie from him and brings it to Derek’s lips, making those suggestive eyebrows again. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Derek bites down into the soft sugar cookie. It’s delicious as always, that nice chewiness with the sweet of the icing - pink and red, because Stiles is nothing if not anatomically accurate - and Stiles visibly winces. “Told you.” 

“Mhmm, yeah, okay, maybe that’s not as sexy a visual as I thought. But, you know...my dick is still in you.” 

Derek rolls his hips forward so they rub over each other. “I prefer the real thing.” He shoves the rest of the cookie in Stiles’ mouth when Stiles opens it to say something. “In other places.” 

Stiles chews rapidly, then swallows, then coughs. Finally, he recovers, Derek beating his back. “Good, I thought you were going to die before you could fuck me tonight,” Derek murmurs in his ear, and Stiles actually whimpers. 

“Come on, Dad’s going to be home in two hours, and I want to take my time with you, sweetheart.” Stile pulls him along by the hand up to his bedroom. 

**2nd Anniversary**   


It’s one of those mornings where Stiles slips easily from sleep into wakefulness. He’s been having more of those lately, since he moved in with Derek at the rebuilt Hale house after college graduation. Case in point, he’s perfectly warm right now, with Derek spooning him from behind, his arms wrapped around Stiles’ waist. He could probably just slip back into sleep, but as he blinks at his phone screen, he realizes he needs to get up. 

Cookies wait for no man. 

“Happy anniversary,” Derek murmurs in his ear, drawing him closer. 

“You remembered,” Stiles sighs, happy. It’s a ridiculous little thing, celebrating their anniversary on the day they make cookies every year rather than the actual date, but he appreciates that Derek has picked up on it. 

“How could I forget?” Derek’s hand slides down Stiles’ stomach, resting over his flannel pajama pants where his morning wood is straining against the fabric. He strokes, and Stiles groans, looking back to capture Derek’s mouth. 

“You’re going to have to be fast, we need to get going,” Stiles murmurs. 

“Such a romantic.” Derek smiles, rubbing his own hard cock against Stiles clothed ass. “But I can do fast if you can.” 

“Try me.” Stiles gasps when Derek’s hand snakes beneath the fabric and closes over his dick. “Oh, god-” 

“Yeah, just like that, let yourself go.” 

The morning handjob and shower leave Stiles feeling loose, limber and ready to go, and he’s already deep into cutting and rotating out cookies from the oven by the time Scott and Kira join them. Kira’s mostly there to watch and manage from a chair - standing too long makes her feet swell, and she’s due to give birth any day now, so Scott won’t leave her home alone. She takes it in stride, mostly, though Stiles can tell she’s ready to be done. 

At one point, Derek shooes him away from something he’s decorating. Stiles can only guess it’s revenge for the cock cookie he made Derek last year. 

His theory is borne out when they’re finished cleaning the kitchen many hours later, and Derek sets a cookie tin and two steaming mugs on the counter. “Bailey’s hot chocolate?” Derek asks, tapping his finger beside the mug. 

“Mmm, my hero, thanks sweetheart.” Stiles lifts a mug and blows, then savors the Irish cream and chocolate flavors on his tongue. “Is that my anniversary gift?” 

Derek looks down at the tin on the counter, a faint smile ghosting over his lips, but he seems nervous as he nods. 

“I hope it’s jewelry,” Stiles jokes, because Derek’s looking way too serious for what has to be another dick in a box. Or maybe just some jingle balls. 

Derek’s hand comes to his neck. “I wouldn’t know what type of jewelry to get you anyway.” 

Stiles hip checks his boyfriend and brings the tin in front of him to open. He hesitates, though, just to kill Derek a little more. “You know, we don’t think enough about the way we wrap gifts, don’t you think? We should-” 

“Oh my god, Stiles, open the tin.” 

Stiles snorts, prying it open easily. He’s about to continue ribbing Derek good-naturedly when he realizes the square-shaped cookie has writing on it. It’s crudely drawn, because Derek’s never been that great with a pastry bag, but it very obviously has a sentence on it. 

Or rather, a question. 

_ Will you marry me? _

Stiles’ mind goes completely blank, and then, to his embarrassment, he feels his eyes start to tear up. “Der-” He looks over, or rather, now he has to look down, because Derek’s slipped down on one knee, holding a little jewelry box in one hand. “Oh my god-” 

“Will you-” is as far as Derek makes it before Stiles tackles him to the ground, hugging the wolf and accidentally knocking the jewelry box aside. 

“Yes, absolutely yes.” He crushes his mouth to Derek’s, pressing him back to the floor, and they get lost a little in that, at least until Stiles sees the box out of the corner of his eye. He breaks the kiss and reaches over. 

“Let me-” Derek says, sounding breathless, his voice shaky. He opens the box, showing a set of simple gold bands, one to fit Derek’s slightly larger finger. “I- I’ll probably get a tattoo, to be honest,” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t want to lose it when I have to shift suddenly. But I wanted to have one, too.” 

“Just as long as you don’t make me hold your hand down while you torch it.” But Stiles is grinning, and pulling Derek to him again. “Der, I love it. I love them. They’re perfect.” He sinks into another kiss. When they break apart, Derek pushes the ring onto Stiles’ finger, and Stiles repeats the gesture. And then they’re just sitting there, wrapped in each other on the kitchen floor, looking at their rings with wonder. 

Stiles is the first to come to attention. “I have an idea.” 

“Whether they’re good or bad, those words never fail to terrify me.” 

“Okay, whatever, sourwolf, let me up. It’s a good idea. We need to, you know, seal the deal.” 

“Pretty sure that’s what we did this morning. And last night. And several other nights this week. And over the last two years…”

“Okay, all right.” Stiles slips back down, having retrieved the cookie tin. He takes out the cookie and holds it up between them. “Take a bite with me.” He waits, his mouth hovering at the edge of the cookie until Derek complies, and they bite into it together. 

When they get married four months later, Stiles will swear up and down that the ceremony on the kitchen floor felt way more authentic.

**5th Anniversary  
**

“And what color sprinkles do you want to use?” 

“Purple!”

Stiles’ smile twinkles. “I'm not even sure why I asked.” He hands the sprinkles - with a lid carefully taped to only allow a little bit of sprinkles out at a time - over to thee year old. He'd learned his lesson last Christmas, Kylie’s first time making cookies. 

Derek watches Stiles watch his niece, warmth filing his chest. Though his hands are dusty with powdered sugar - they'd needed more buttercream, stat - he tugs on Stiles’ jean waistband and slides in behind his husband for a kiss under his ear that makes him shiver. 

“You can stop that never.”

Derek chuckles before turning around to monitor the stand mixer the Sheriff had bought them for their wedding. 

Their little pack is thriving, if Kylie McCall’s birth three years ago is any indication. Scott and Kira have been talking about giving her a sibling, and then there's Cora's little boy, still a little too young to make cookies. Derek might not be the Alpha anymore, but holding little Caleb in his arms - little Caleb’s existence at all because of Derek’s sacrifice - makes it worth it, just as all the pups running around Hale territory do. Even if Scott insists on calling it McCall territory. 

“I can see we’ve got a purple and green theme going this year.” Derek can also see that there may just be more sprinkles on Kylie than on the cookies. 

“The deputies will eat them just the same, believe me. When I was six, I went through this blue stage. Mom…” Stiles pauses briefly, a pained smile gracing his lips. “Mom indulged me, made a bunch of different color blues, and that’s all we had that year. Everyone had blue lips at the station for two weeks.” 

Derek smiles like he often does thinking of little Stiles. He drops one more kiss to the back of Stiles’ neck and then starts packaging cookies with set icing into tins. 

Derek wakes when something heavy lands on his lap and he instinctively grabs for it. Once he has his hands on the weight, it’s easy to tell he’s gripping Stiles’ hips. “Did I fall asleep? Is Kiley gone?” 

“Yes, you did, and yes, she is. The annual tradition of making cookies is complete, right on time for the annual tradition where you clean the kitchen because you’re the best husband and I love you.” 

Derek snorts, pulling Stiles closer to him. “I think the dishes can wait.” 

Stiles’ lips slide over his as they reposition him into straddling Derek. They stay like that for a bit, lazily making out, until Stiles draws back, out of breath, his cheeks warm. “You’re getting better.” 

Derek knows he’s not talking about kissing. “I still- it’s not Kylie, it’s just- I’m just…” 

“Scared,” Stiles whispers, cupping Derek’s cheek. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re getting better, you recognize that, right?” 

Derek nods and hugs Stiles closely, burying his face in Stiles’ neck. “Do you still want to…?” 

“Someday.” Stiles fingers stroke through his hair. “I’m okay with waiting as long as you need to.” 

“The more we have, the more we have to lose. What if I can’t keep them safe? What if we get a kid, and then there’s another fire, or another Alpha pack, or another...anything.”

“I think that’s something every parent worries about.” Stiles takes Derek’s face in his hands, their eyes meeting. “I’m okay with waiting until you feel comfortable, sweetheart. I’m not sure if you’ll ever not feel scared. All you can do is be prepared.” 

They hug in silence for a bit, Derek’s breath raising Stiles’ body, Stiles’ head tucked into Derek’s neck. “I want to be ready,” Derek says finally. 

He feels Stiles’ lips curve against his throat. “That’s a good next step.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> I may add a smutty second chapter to this. Let me know if you think it needs one. :)


End file.
